


Never Apologise

by YaminoTenshi202



Series: Collateral Damage [1]
Category: Guardians of Childhood - William Joyce, Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: AU?, Damn original characters... or are they?, F/M, Incest?, M/M, Multi, Reincarnation, Tags have been fixed, What Have I Done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-01
Updated: 2013-10-12
Packaged: 2017-12-13 15:58:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/826106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YaminoTenshi202/pseuds/YaminoTenshi202
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack lifted his head and looked at the General in a pleading manner.</p><p>"Please... Isn't there anything you can tell me?" The General lowered his gaze. Jack could read nothing from his posture. The tension in the air was suffocating, like being... Being underwater again, his lungs straining and burning. His eyes grew a bit watery, tears forming at his memory.</p><p>"Never..."</p><p>Jack lifted his head. "What?"</p><p>"Never apologise."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Shall We Begin?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The Black Ice Fandom](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=The+Black+Ice+Fandom).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story combines the movie and books. Please enjoy and I welcome criticism :)
> 
> Intro and Meeting the Characters

  _Never apologize for showing feeling. When you do so, you apologize for truth._  


_-          Benjamin Disraeli_

* * *

He saw the General walk by on the level below, beneath the balcony where he stood, brandishing his scabbard to the new recruits to his army. He watched as he stopped in front of them and explained the dearness with which their given weapons should be handled, the reason that they were able to protect the Tsar and Tsarina, and the land in which they lived. His golden eyes were twinkling with mirth at the joy, his devotion to the royal family, engrained into him since conception.

He kept his eyes on the General, the hood that he kept over his face keeping his visage hidden. Several men, higher up in ranks, stood by him as all watched the recruits pull out their scabbards and were shown how to care for the blades. Strange, the technique, but it was how the General had been taught and that was how he was determined to raise his soldiers.

“How do you perceive the General’s tactics of education, Colonel Moroz?” They were addressing him and he opened his mouth to speak before hearing a girl’s voice.

“Colonel!” He turned and saw that it was the General’s daughter. He watched the little girl come close and he began to walk towards her.

“Sir!” He frowned to himself, and he composed himself as he turned again to the person addressing him. He turns back and, with the voice that he has practiced so often when looking in the mirror, his long hair tied up in a very masculine manner, as it is tied now, he addresses the man.

“I perceive them as endearing, educational, and strong, my lord. I learnt them myself and I have never found any negative consequence to them.” He bows his head, which they return, and he turns to approach the little girl who has barrettes of butterflies in her hair.

He left them and met the little girl, the beloved General’s daughter. The little girl admired her father for a moment, before she led the Colonel away.

“Let me tell you, Zhak, about my lessons for the day.” The Colonel, Zhak Moroz, nodded his head.

“Yes, dear,” he replied, once in an empty corridor, alone with the girl and no one to judge him. “Tell me all that you learnt. I’m sure your father would love to hear about it, too.”

* * *

The Moon gazed down at his follower, the child who took care of the new and young people on the planet his ship revolved around.

He called the child Mitsuki, because he was more beautiful than those below, on Earth, and he was guarded by the moon. Yes, older than the moon itself. Mitsuki was his name because of his hair that turned white in the winter months.

The child's chosen name, however, was Hikyuu, for his black hair that would appear outside of the winter months, more natural in the Eastern country in which he lived. It was also for his black heart, the cruelty that he could execute without batting an eye. The first character of his name, though, was because of his beautiful methods of torture. Even covered in blood of his enemies or children, he looked beautiful.

His surname, unnatural in this country but perfect for him, was Wakahisa, because he was forever youthful and energetic. Even if he could never leave the inner chambers of the shogun’s palace, he held them in the palm of his hands and he enjoyed the power.

His child, Wakahisa Hikyuu, was such a powerful one, that it would certainly be best to keep him trapped there.

He noticed the child's brown eyes open widely and his lips moved to form the words...

_Jack Frost._

The Moon called his daughter Kaguya to him. "Child, watch your mother. Something dangerous seems to be afoot," he ordered gently, watching Hikyuu grab his o-katana.

* * *

He loved to play in the snow. He loved taking the children outside when his hair first changed with the coming season and let them marvel at the white, cold flakes that fell from the sky. When his smallest ward, a little girl, came up to him and called him ‘Brother Karlik’ to help her make a man out of the snow…

He fell in love. She was his sister and nothing could change that from that day onwards.

He liked to sit around in the Big Root and listen to Ombric’s tales to Katherine, his adopted daughter. How he loved to listen to tales of the Golden Age, the ones that were spun out of fanciful airs, and the ones that he could confirm warmed his heart – they had not been forgotten; only, were they made, into faerie stories that children would love to listen to before drifting off to sleep.

Strange, was this place, as no Nightmare Men or Fearlings ever entered here.

That night, the night of Katherine’s tenth anniversary of her birth, as he walked off to his own cottage, noting that the parents had gone to put their children and tykes off to bed, he did take out a small vial. It usually hung around his neck on a small chain of Trona Metal, one of his only reminders of home… and the Colonel and Hikyuu.

He looked up to the moon, the Man in the Moon, and smiled, the small vial of black sand getting warm in his hand.

“Pretty little nightmares… Good that you can’t enter the village,” he whispered softly to the sand. He was no stranger to the bad dreams, but he often found that he pined for them more than he spent time wishing them away.

“But it’s bad, I believe,” he continued, and he felt his eyes burn with sadness, longing.

“That I feel so alone.”

A gentle neighing broke him from his stupor. He looked away from his vial of black sand and put it back under his shirt. He was home, and his gentle horse was calling for his attention. He approached the shy beast and rubbed its nose, kissing the smooth fur there.

“I apologise, Hrimfaxi. I was… feeling nostalgic. Please… Forgive your Raureif.”

* * *

Blue eyes opened and were bright with alertness. Jack sat up on the mattress, stretching. He looked around, remembering that he had been staying at North’s palace for a while, deciding to sleep, as he did not too often.

He sighed, feeling warm air fill his lungs and then quickly escape, a barely visible mist forming. It stung, but it felt refreshing all the same. As he looked around, he noticed that some frost was decorating the headboard of the bed on which he had been resting.

He felt a sadness within him and he looked through his most recent memories. He remembered-

“Sandy.”

“Yes.” He looked to the door and saw the jolly man himself with a dour expression. “We did not anticipate Pitch’s attack.”

Jack felt a shiver climb up his spine, and it was not of cold or fear.

“Are you scared, Jack?” North’s eyes were filled with concern for the young spirit.

He shook his head.

Anticipation.

“What will happen now?” he asked the Guardian in a soft voice. He remembered North saying how proud Sandy would be about him standing up to Pitch, how his centre would be found in due time.

He had to know, though. Why was the centre inside of him so hard to find? What if he couldn’t find it?

What if he never would?

“Let us look at the globe.”

Jack stood and followed the large man, walking softly with his staff in hand. It was strange. He slept sometimes, but now was not the time to. He had a dream; something that he thought wouldn’t be possible with Sandy gone. It left him happy, though. Three words passed through his thoughts before fleeing.

_Glorious._

_Beautiful._

_Nightmare._

He didn't find them again until many years later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first three parts are in the past. The fourth part is during the Rise of the Guardians movie.
> 
> This is my first story on AO3. This is also the main story of the series. The Prequel, "Of All the Creatures" shall be up at a later date. It is mainly Jack/Pitch (Black Ice) or Jack/Kozmotis (Goldenfrost), whatever the kids are calling it these days.
> 
> When I first heard of Jack Frost as a little girl, I was amazed. It was the first time that someone didn't tell me of a mythical being and I believed in him so strongly. The Tooth Faerie, Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, Sandman, and Bogeyman (el Coco, for my family - aka THE DEVIL D:) were used to keep me in line, but, as for Jack Frost, he was someone I could keep to myself and I could believe in on my own. I didn't have to be good for him - he would always bring the snow for me, as imperfect as I was.
> 
> Snow spirits are quite fascinating and I've noticed that so many mythologies are connected to each other. That's what has led to this.
> 
> The vagueness will go away with time :)
> 
> *If you're on Tumblr, my name is unchangeablexangel. If you've read my Black Ice Week fanfiction, Hrimfaxi is the frost horse of the God of Night.


	2. The Silver Spoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ((Still during the movie)) Jack ponders life, memory, ... The first two of five things.

  _I am afraid to forget. I do not want to forget anything._  


\- Virginia Woolf

* * *

Jack held his staff tightly as he watched Sophie and Bunnymund grow closer and closer. The little girl rubbed her hands against the Pooka's fur, giggling at the way it tickled her fingers. The Easter Bunny, in turn, rubbed his cheek against the toddler's, stroking her hair and acting much like a father would. He felt a small pain in his chest. Had he ever had that? Someone to play with and to comfort him, as he saw the Pooka do when Sophie has stumbled and began to cry softly, calling for comfort. The Pooka obliged and let her decorate an egg all by herself, her little fingers dipping into the paint  eagerly and soon, an egg with a smiling face began to walk around by itself.

Had his fingers ever graced a creation and made it into something worthy of praise from someone, no matter how horribly it turned out?

No...

He had never had that. Not in this lifetime.

As the eggs began to huddle in the tunnels, Jack offered to take the child home. _Poor little tyke_ , he cooed to her, though not out loud. _All tuckered out_.

Her blonde hair was covering her right eye, but Jack knew that it was closed, along with her left. Her mouth was open slightly, the child breathing through her mouth. It was rather cute. Setting her on her bed was somewhat difficult, as she just didn't want to let go. He was colder than her, but she just didn't want to let go! He wrenched off her hands from his sweater as gently as he could, if one could gently pry off something with such a firm grip as hers. Turning to Baby Tooth, he whispered to her that they should go back to the Bunny Warren.

" _Jack!"_ he heard.

Jack jerked slightly, having closed Sophie's window. He had the faintest thoughts of sugar and cookies - biscuits, he used to call them - the jam inside of them spreading over his tongue and warming him. Baby Tooth's squeaks did not concern him the most right now. Why was that voice so familiar?

"That voice, I know that voice..." he muttered. Hearing the voice again, he took to the air.

Jammie dodgers. Sweet on his tongue and in his stomach. As Jack Frost, he did not require food, but the person he used to be did.

The small Tooth Faerie followed after him, her shy squeaks taking no precedence to the voice. 

* * *

The Bogeyman's lair should have scared him a bit, but Jack was too overwhelmed with the idea of remembering who he used to be to think so. As he wandered through the tunnel entrance, he was aghast at the cages, harsh and sharp, that held the small sprites that were holding the Tooth Faeries. The Tooth Boxes were underneath the hanging caging They began to make so much noise; surely they would alert Pitch! Flying to one of the cages, he scolded the faeries.

"Shh! Keep it down! I'll get you out of here as soon as I..."

 _"Jack!"_ he heard again. He looked down and saw a pile of Tooth Boxes.

"As I can."

The voice... It was coming from one of them! He dropped down and landed somewhat noisily on the pile, the metal containers clinking together. He ignored everything. His memories, he had time, he could remember... Every thought ran in and out of his mind like a speeding train, never fully capturing his attention.

He heard a soft swishing noise and then... a voice.

"Looking for something?"

He stood and turned, seeing Pitch's shadow, tall and menacing, on the cave wall. Jack growled, holding out his staff and shooting out ice, like lightning, at the Bogeyman. The shadow dodged and began to make its way along the walls, away from the frost spirit. Jack jumped up, light and nimble, following it. He vaguely noticed that the staircases in the lair were not normal. They were on the floor, walls, and ceiling, as if this place changed shape repeatedly and the stairs decided to take part in the fun as well. The chuckling that echoed around him was bothersome.

As Jack climbed something akin to a buttress, he heard Pitch speak again.

"Don't be afraid, Jack. I'm not gonna hurt you." He turned and saw Pitch walking in the minimal amount of light that passed into the cave. The tall spirit was walking away from him, hands behind his back, and moving at a leisurely pace.

"'Afraid'?" Jack asked, feeling offended. He landed on the walkway where Pitch was, brandishing his staff. "I'm not afraid of you." As he approached, Pitch waved out an arm, dismissing his comment.

"Maybe not, but you are afraid of something." The resolution in his voice was solid, but Jack would not have it.

"You think so, huh?"

"I know so," Pitch assured him, stopping. "It's the one thing I  _always_ know," he said, looking back at Jack. He turned away, as though remembering something. "People's greatest fears."

His hands came down to his sides and his lips turned into a knowing, dark grin.

"Yours is that no-one will ever believe in you." His shadows spread forward and Jack felt... anxious. Not frightened, just anxious, he told himself.

He fell through the shadows that surrounded him and he yelped, unused to being a victim of gravity in such a way. The stone he landed on was unforgiving, his head and body hurting where the stone made contact. He got onto his hands and knees as quickly as he could, still surrounded by shadow.

"And worst of all," Pitch continued, his voice enveloping him and vibrating through the darkness. He grasped blindly for his staff. When in hand, he stood and looked around sporadically before finding a tunnel and jumping through. "You'll never know why.

"Why _you_ ," the Bogeyman continued. Jack put a hand out to guide himself through the shade, but his fingers made contact with a wall and he felt a greater spike of anxiety inside his chest. As the shadows slinked away from the wall, he turned to have his back to it, his hands tight on the staff.

"Why were you chosen to be like this?" Jack's head turned almost wildly, trying to locate Pitch. He gasped, spotting his shadow on the wall behind him, and turned to face front again, Pitch standing in front of him.

"Well, fear not, because the answer to that," Pitch stated, "is right here." In a grey hand, outstretched, the Tooth Box lay inside its grasp.

Jack felt a shiver up his spine. It was wanting, longing, needing, welling up inside of his body. Who was he? He could finally know and end the torment that wrecked his body whenever anyone passed through him and could not see him. The boy's picture on the end of the cylindrical container was that of a brunet. A smile of mischief decorated his - Jack's - countenance on the box, and Jack felt a desire in his chest that made him fell just short of ill and sinful.

"Do you want them, Jack? Your memories..?" Jack wanted to grab them... He wanted to so much, and if he didn't like the answer?

 He reached for them, his chest tight and breathing a bit faster than before. His mind stopped. If these three hundred years alone... if they were a punishment, and his memories were taken as an act of mercy?

He... He pulled away.

Pitch pulled away and disappeared, cackling.

Jack lifted his head, his breathing calming down to its normal pace. He followed the voice, jumping down stairs and through the light beams that managed to enter the dark, dank space. As the laughing faded and he slowed to a stop, he turned to the wall adjacent to him, seeing a shadow pull itself from his.

"Everything you wanted to know, in this little box," Pitch stated. The shadow that danced along the walls of the cave slipped away, almost out of Jack's sight, the boy trying to keep up with it, keep it in his sight. He slowed, walkind down a small flight of steps and being mesmerized by Pitch's shadows, encircling him on the walls around him. It was suffocating and it was like he was drowning again!

_Again?_

"Why did you end up like this? Unseen? Unable to reach out to anyone?" Why was he like this? What did he  _do_?

"You want them so badly. You want to grab them and fly off with them!" He could see Pitch, holding out his hands, as though he were lecturing a young child, chiding it for its ignorance. How dare such a mischievous child be ignorant of what his sin is! No! He was not a sinner! He just wanted to know who he was. Jack held his staff more firmly, the wood a gentle reminder of who he was. He was Jack Frost, and the only one who understood him was himself. Pitch didn't know. He didn't know-

"But you're afraid, of what the Guardians will think. You're afraid of disappointing them. Well, let me ease your mind about one thing. They will never accept you, not really." With that last word, Jack felt the dam that held all of his anxiety back break.

"No! Stop it! **Stop it**!" He gripped his head. So much pressure and noise and pain, from the isolation that he had been subjected to for so very long. He had moved back from the shadows and had continued to do so, moving up the steps to have Pitch's globe behind him.

Jack pulled his hands from his head. They were shaking slightly. Someone had broken into him.

"After all," he heard Pitch say, lifting his head in wariness and spying the spirit - no, daemon! - step out of the shadows. "You're not one of them."

"You don't know what I am!" He held the staff, ready to strike. _He wasn't afraid, he wasn't afraid..._

"Of course, I do. You're Jack Frost!" Pitch continued forward, not offput by the crook. "You make a mess wherever you go.

"Why, you're doing it right now."

Jack caught the sight of gold when Pitch threw something to him. He looked down at it when it was in his grasp and saw his memory box, blue, green, purple, and gold twinkling at him in the scant amount of light. Right now...

He looked at the tall man, whose eyes still looked at him as though he were a student, not learning his lesson.

"What did you do?" Jack asked in a whisper, trying to grasp and simultaneously ignore the alarm in the back of his mind.

"More to the point, Jack," Pitch corrected, backing into the shadows. "What did  _you_ do?"

His body faded into the darkness, his golden-tinted, silver eyes and Cheshire cat smile the only things visible.

Again he messed up? _Again?_

He ran forward, his staff whipping around, having a mind of its own and glowing a bright blue; Jack swung with all of his might, wanting to hit the Bogeyman for delving so deep into his mind and missing the point of everything - were all spirits like this to him? What had he done wrong that this only spirit, like him, ignored for such a long period of time, treated him like the rest, as though he was a mistake? Why didn't he understand?!

He stumbled, trying to compose himself. He remembered that he didn't hear a rapid fluttering of wings by his side and he ran back the way he came, only to be stopped by a wall, concaved towards him.

"Baby Tooth!" he called, frightened for her sake. He felt disappointment in himself rising and he turned around again, spying some colour-

Egg shells.

" _Happy Easter, Jack."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I posted this accidentally when it was still in the very early stages. Sorry about that.  
> The title of this and the subsequent chapters [two] are inspired by the song "The Cats in the Cradle" by Harry Chapin.  
> Oh, Jack...
> 
> Next chapter - "The Cats in the Cradle: Little Boy Blue" - Beauty and Death


	3. Little Boy Blue...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ((Still during the movie)) Jack ponders beauty and death... The next pair of five things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Psst. There are a lot of boring research notes at the end, as well as an explanation for a script change, and creative license.))

 If you love deeply, you're going to get hurt badly. But it's still worth it.

\- C.S. Lewis.

* * *

"We should never have trusted you!"

Bunny's paw was curled into a tight fist and Jack had to back away, unused to the rage against him. Truthfully, any emotion towards him was a new one, but this was unpleasant. It brought up the feeling of ill within him, what he had felt when he had seen children vomit into nearby sick bowls, the waste bins, and toilets. He wanted to be empty of everything now.

Bunny pulled away and looked at him with eyes that spoke only of betrayal and a physical agony. His paws came up, as though they were holding something, but they were empty.

"Easter is... New beginnings, new life."

Empty...

"Easter's about hope," the Pooka implored to him, turning away and looking back at him. Green eyes left Jack's as Bunny finished his words with,

"and now it's gone."

 The Guardian of Hope walked away silently, his shoulders slumped. All of the bravado, how he normally held himself erect with pride and determination... was gone. Jack felt the feeling in his stomach increase, the metal box of his teeth in his hand now weighing so very much.

He turned away, to look at North and Tooth, rather than the Easter spirit. Their eyes were filled with disappointment and when the large man turned away, as though ashamed, Jack felt a punch to the place where his centre would probably be... if he ever found it. It was all his curiosity's fault after all. If only the Moon...

 _No_.

It was all his fault.

_Why was he here?_

He didn't deserve to know.

Each thought came in rapid succession and by the time he pulled out the small figurine of North, the little wooden infant that had been swaddled in his sweater pocket, he felt sick to look at it. He turned away, eyes focusing on the sky as to not look at Bunnymund, to not see his pain.

 _I did that_.

He took to the sky, the Wind caressing his head, soft wisps of air threading themselves through his hair, as the strange heat behind his eyes began to grip all of him. He never saw Tooth looking up at him, motherly concern in her violet eyes.

* * *

Antartica was cold, and he welcomed its embrace. It was lonely and he welcomed it as well. The Wind licked questions at his ears, but Jack would not have it. He needed to be alone right now. The Wind, dejected as Jack shook his head at her inquiries, let her annoyance at her uselessness create clouds above her charge, hiding him from all. He wanted to solitude and he would have it.

Jack felt a spark of gratitude and pushed it away. No good feelings - he didn't deserve to feel any. There was so much heat inside of him and it felt uncomfortable. It was the feeling he had felt on the day of his birth three hundred years ago. His body was full of fire, the Wind actually feeling _cold_ against his skin. He wanted to be free of that emotion, free of his anxiety, free of everything.

So he ran.

Running was strangely comforting to him, especially when the Wind was sometimes needed elsewhere. His legs tensed and relaxed, his feet numb to the strong snow beneath his feet. It was probably more like ice, but he didn't want to figure out if it was right now. His grip on his staff was secure and he didn't relax it, lest he drop it. He let the cool air freeze his lungs and he couldn't, _couldn't_ , get rid of that feeling.

Was it the weight in his hand? Yes, that had been the initial cause. Might as well get rid of the source.

Jack ran up a slope, reaching back as he approached the top. He tried to throw his arm forward, let go of his memories. They wouldn't help him now! He grunted, trying to throw it, let the box fall into the chasm below.

... He couldn't, he realised, his arm falling down to his side. He felt disappointment well inside of him and he felt the heat behind his eyes spike again.

"I thought this might happen."

Jack's eyes grew wide at the voice. The Bogeyman stood behind him, at the bottom of the slope, it sounded like. Jack felt no wave of animosity, as he did in the dark cave, and it created another hot feeling inside of him.

"They never really believed in you," the voice continued. It sounded complacent, soft, not pressing or insistent. "I was just trying to show you that," Pitch assured.

Why _him,_ of all people?

"But I understand."

Pitch called up some shadows, corrupted dream-sand, in response to the quick attack of frost that Jack sent him.

Jack jumped from the slope, the Wind assisting him immediately, responding to his beck. He landed behind where Pitch stood, no shadows around him at the moment, nor Nightmares. He came unarmed, like Jack couldn't be a threat.

"You don't understand anything!" Jack screamed, throwing ice from his staff. He didn't understand! He had been ignored for so long, and Pitch brought him down even lower - the Guardians _hated_ him! And here the Bogeyman was, as though it wasn't his fault.

 _It wasn't._ _You could have left... and you didn't._

Pitch threw up more sand as a defense. He brought his hands down and looked at the spirit with an annoyed glare.

"No? I don't know what it's like to be cast out‽" he asked, hurling shadows in retaliation to Jack's words. The youth jumped, dodging the attacks.

Jack jumped one more time, letting the Wind throw him up, and yelled out a gutteral, basic cry. He hurt deeply and he didn't want to be equated to the person who had caused it. Bringing his staff down caused more ice to shoot out than he had seen before - though less than the time when Sandy had... Pitch brought up his sand again and the area was covered in a grey cloud, almost like smoke, the instant the ice and shadows struck against each other.

Jack landed down, the Wind leaving him alone as it tried to scatter the smoke slowly, to give its charge some cover.

"To not be believed in‽"

His vision was obscured by the smoke, Jack realised, his staff out and ready. He watched carefully as the dust settled and vaguely wondered about how Pitch couldn't see him. Could he strike first?

"To dream of..." Jack heard the familiar voice behind him and turned, his staff pointing at Pitch. However, the Bogeyman had his hands down, his arms lowers, and appearing as though he was begging. His posture was curved down, imploring Jack to hear him, to listen, to  _understand_. The next words left him as though they had been kept sealed for so long, yet Pitch's words spilled over when Jack met his gaze.

"A family..."

Jack let the shock wave through his body, pulling back his staff slightly. He kept his eyes on Pitch's and saw a haunted expression on his face. Quite a familiar one, though the frost spirit had only glanced at himself in mirrors only a few times during his 300 year life. It was loneliness.

Pitch let his shoulders fall as he stood himself up, a bit of pain still upon his face and his eyes closed. "All those years in the shadows, I thought 'No-one else knows what this feels like'..." He lifted his head and smiled slightly at Jack. "But now I see that I was wrong."

A kindred spirit... Jack lowered his staff, making its end press against the cold ground.

"We don't  _have_ to be alone, Jack," the Bogeyman assured him, coming close and speaking with fervor. "I believe in you, and I know children will, too."

It was what he wanted, but...

"In me?" he asked, disbelievingly. He could be seen‽

"Yes!" Pitch exclaimed, chuckling. He turned Jack - gently - to turn his field of vision to where their attacks of shadow and ice had met. "Just look at what we can do!"

Jack stared up. It was like a sculpture that he had seen once when he gave winter to Chicago, those strange sculptures that decorated the city in some places. It was sharp and jutting, like shards of glass. The shadows had been frozen mid-motion, the swirls of sand giving the ice a delicate pattern underneath, despite their intentions. Though, Jack recalled that the shadows were merely to defend against his ice. That was why it looked both violent and serene at once; defense and attack, to protect and to hurt, both powers had perfectly complemented the other. A perfect balance.

"What goes better together than cold and dark‽" Pitch had pulled away and Jack strangely missed the warm. It was one of the only sensations of touch that he had not pushed away. "We can make them believe! We can make a world where everything,  _everything_ is-"

"Pitch black?" Pitch looked back at the spirit, registering his words.

"And Jack Frost, too. They'll believe in both of us." Was it appeasement or sincerity? Jack didn't know, but the beauty of the thing they had made, the sculpture, set a heavy weight on his chest. He remembered so frightened, hopeless, and disappointed the Guardians had been just before he had left...

He didn't want them looking at him like that.

"No, they'll  _fear_ both of us. And that's not what I want." He turned from the Bogeyman, leaving him alone. "Now for the last time! Leave me alone."

He walked, a chill making its way through him. Not exactly of cold.

Anticipation.

And a feeling from somewhere else. Someone was sad.

But the feeling went away when Pitch spoke.

"Fine. You want to be alone? Done. But first."

A small, high-pitched cry forced Jack to turn and he saw Baby Tooth, the little mini-faerie, trapped in Pitch's grasp.

"Baby Tooth!" He flew over to her, landing not too far from Pitch's outstretched arm. He brandished his staff again. She squealed in fear, maybe even pain!

"The staff, Jack!" Pitch ordered, a sadistic glint in his eye. Jack's eyes flicked to his staff for just a moment before catching Pitch's gaze again. "You have a bad habit of interfering. Now hand it over, and I'll let her go."

The faerie shook her head, giving Jack a look that only spoke of self-sacrifice. She would let the Bogeyman hurt her, even  _kill_ her, to let Jack go free. She really cared about him... the only one he could think of who cared right now. Jack should honour her, but... he couldn't leave her. The way that she was looking at him, fear resonating from her purple and blue eyes, it struck him deeply as something he didn't want to feel.

He stood up and flipped the staff in his hand so that the crook at the end was no longer in front of him. Pitch reached out and grabbed the piece of wood, Jack hardly taking notice how easily the shadows clung to it. Pitch pulled it away, a grin on his face.

"Now let her go," Jack stated, holding out his left hand.

Pitch's expression became that of a disinterest and he shook his head. "No."

Jack pulled back, confused.

"You said you wanted to be alone. So be alone!"

Pitch's grip on Baby Tooth loosened and the little faerie pecked at the grey hand that held her. Pitch yelped and threw the little spirit into a chasm so far behind Jack that he quickly lost sight of her as she flew in the air.

"No..." Jack moaned softly, fearing the loss of his little friend. Turning to Pitch again, he saw his staff held in both hands and the next moment, it was broken in two. Pain spiked within him, wringing out a scream from him. Something inside of him broke and he felt detached from himself. He was flung back by the force of shadows striking his body and he grunted as he hit an ice wall. He cried out as he fell into the same chasm as Baby Tooth, hitting some ice that was jutting out of one of the walls and the ground beneath him met his form with the same blunt force.

His staff, now in halves, clattered down into the grotto, echoing along with Pitch's cackle.

Jack looked up to the sky, dazed. Too bright... He turned away and noticed the little faerie, calling out her name. As he dashed over to her, he picked her up prudently in his left hand, minding her wings that had been bent in various directions. He covered her up, thinking she might be dazed by the light as well, but he pulled his right hand when little hands pushed at his palm. Jack looked at her with disappointment as she sneezed and hugged herself, trying to stay warm.

"I'm sorry. I can only keep you cold." He sat on his haunches, not wanting to look at her. He was ashamed.

"Pitch was right. I make a mess of everything." The two were silent, Baby Tooth moving to jump into his sweater pocker despite his sounds of confusion. Jack quieted himself again. She'd be safe from the wind in there. He moved to lay against the icy wall, his body aching dully.

He closed his eyes... wondering if he could just sleep now...

Tired...

                                                          tired...

                                                                                                                           ...

                                                                                                                                                                             " _Jack!_ "

The spirit opened his eyes and looked down, yelling as he spotted the glow coming from his pocket, the force of the shock making him jump and move to the ice wall behind him. Tentatively, he reached inside and pulled it out, revealing the memory box. Had he put it in there before he had begun to fight Pitch? He must have... He held it in front of him, staring at the golden glow of the box, hypnotized by the brilliance of it.

" _Jack!_ " He heard the voice again and he wanted to know now... To whom that little voice belonged to. He felt a weight on his left thigh, by his knee, and saw Baby Tooth look up at him expectantly.

Jack looked at the little sprite, let his gaze flicker to the box and back to her. She smiled and placed a hand on the container, turning her head to nod at him.

He took in a breath and pressed his hand to the blue diamond on the top of the box, letting the strange vision of diamonds taking over his vision to reveal a vision...

* * *

"Come on, Jack! You can't have fun all the time!" Mother looked at him with a tired expression, but he didn't care as he ran, his hands on his ears like that of a rabbit's. He was sixteen years old and he could still have fun! As long he he did his work, that was. His sister was running after him, her hair flowing behind her. He turned back to Mother and saw that she was smiling, holding onto their basket.

"Jack! I found an egg!" she cried out, reaching for the confection that she had spotted beneath a bush. She held it out to him and smiled.

"Great, Gemma!" Jack smiled at her and wished that their father was here for them now, because he would have to leave to attend to the goats later and let his sister go back to Mother to work on things at home. It was Easter, a Sabbath day, and they had to work. Like they always did. It never made Jack terribly happy though.

_That's where fun came in._

"Jack, get down from there!" Gemma called up to him as he hung upside down from one of the branches in the trees. The village children laughed at his antics and tried it on the lower branches, some falling but safe due to how low they were.

He smiled down at her and she smiled up at him. He got down carefully - climbing down the trunk, as to show the children how to get down, considering he usually jumped off - and helped them learn his trick. At sunset, the siblings bid the village children "good-bye" and walked home.

Down to their home by the lake.

_He was happier with the fun._

"Then the Elk King gave a mightly bellow and stomped through his forest," Jack said. He grabbed the small pair of antlers that Mister Cobbler said that he could use - in the same condition, assuredly. He set his legs wide apart and crouched down low, knowing that he looked so silly to the children and smiling at their laughter.

"You're funny, Jack," he heard the blacksmith's son, Ulrich, say. He saw Gemma clapping and her teeth showing in her grin.

_It was better for all of them, because he wasn't afraid._

"Be careful." Mother smiled after them. Jack smiled back at her, ignoring the cold beneath his feet. He liked it anyway. Gemma pulled at his hand eagerly, gazing longingly at the pond. It had frozen and would be able to hold them now. He looked to his sister, laughing lightly at her jumpiness.

"We will," he assured Mother, gazing into her brown eyes. He promised and he always kept his promises, he thought, looking to the frozen pond.

He looked at Mother for a third time, watching as her worry disappeared from her eyes. He let the staff his father made him hang down at his side; it would be good to check the ice on the pond, just to make sure.

_He would be sure of it._

"It's okay. It's okay! Don't look down. Just, look at me." Jack had dropped his staff, knelt in frost of his sister. Her skates, the blades the only thing between her shoes and the ice, were cracking the ice beneath her and Jack could see that if she would begin to stress herself further, she would begin to cry like she did when Mister Juenger's son picked on her for being their Mother's daughter, for the little Pagan protection symbols etched in the hem of Gemma's dress.

"Jack, I'm scared." Gemma looked down, her arms somewhat out to her sides in an effort to stay balanced. Jack could see utter fear on her face.

"I know, I know." He stood again, having set down his skates, and stepped forward, cringing as the ice cracked beneath his foot.

"But," he continued, smiling. "You're gonna be all right. You're not gonna fall in." He looked away from her for a moment, thinking and feeling anxious. What had Father done when he was little and was in danger? In a high tree and afraid to come down, Father had told him to dance his way down, jumping lightly from branch to branch that he had used to climb up in the first place.  _"Have fun_ _"_ Father had said.

"We're gonna have a little fun instead," Jack decided to say.

"No, we're not!" His sister's voice was a bit shrill in dismay and fear. The ice cracked again, but neither sibling minded it.

"Would I trick you?" he asked.

"Yes! You always play tricks!" She never liked being lied to, but Jack wasn't lying this time.

"Well, no-no-not this time." God help him, he was stuttering. He wanted her to be back in the house, back where it was safe. "I promise, you're gonna be... You're gonna be fine."

Brown eyes, just like Mother's, lifted their gaze from the ice-

"You have to believe in me."

-and the trust in her eyes warmed him more than the cloak on his shoulders, her shaky breath finally being let out from where it had gotten stuck in her chest.

But he still didn't like her fear.

"You wanna play a game?" he asked. "We're gonna play Hop-Scotch! Like we do everyday!"

Gemma smiled up at him as he began to count.

"One..." Jack flinched as the ice cracked under his foot. He looked to her and saw her eyes still alight with a warm trust and love. He balanced on his one foot and flailed his arms about.

"Whoa!"

Her laughter was her only assurance that this would work. He took a second step to his right, counting it out loud, and then jumped to his third.

"Three!" He knelt down, grabbing his crook and holding it tightly. "All right."

It would need to hold another little lamb of God, and he couldn't be weak! He had to stop panting.

"Now it's your turn," he told Gemma, holding it out with the curve towards her.

She smiled and took a step, Jack counting a "one", and she gasped as the ice continued to crack.

"That's it, that's it," he urged her.

_Mother can't lose her._

"Two..." he counted, her next step making the ice crack more loudly. Gemma looked up at him in worry and then back down to the ice. She took another step and before Jack would let the ice crack, he reached out.

"Three!" Gemma looked up at his counting and was so surprised as she was flung into the air, away from the breaking ice and onto the pond's surface on a much thicker area of ice. Jack stumbled in the opposite direction.

He sat up from where he had stumbled and watched her push herself up, the ice surely cold on her belly. She looked around and then at him, smiling, an action he mirrored. He let out a laugh! He'd done something right! As he stood, he wondered how Mother would punish them for not checking all of the ice first.

He forgot about the ice.

He couldn't swim.

Why was it so cold?

"Jack!" The last thing he saw clearly was Gemma, standing, reaching out to him and his name on her lips. He'd try to keep her last beautiful smile though.

She was safe?

She was safe...

That was all that mattered.

Through the water, he saw the moon. Dawn hadn't been too long ago.

His day was just beginning. Maybe this was a new one too, a new beginning.

He let himself breath the water in as his vision turned black..

* * *

  _To die will be an awfully big adventure._  


_- Peter Pan by J.M. Barrie_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "To dream... of a family?" - This is the line used in the French dub of "Rise of the Guardians". I like this line because it speaks volumes - one being that even the Bogeyman, someone that can be called a demon in some cultures, can have a sweet dream; the other, the Bogeyman creates fear and Nightmares, but he doesn't like having them himself.
> 
> "Pitch black?" - This. This had to be the most beautiful play on words that I have ever witnessed in the cinema.
> 
> Easter Eggs - I wondered about when Easter Egg Hunts happened in colonial America, as we only see Jack, his sister, and mother go for eggs. In 1712*, Burgess Village (before Thaddeus) would not have celebrated Easter with such an event. Neither English (primarily) Puritans** nor German (primarily) Quakers, religious groups in colonial Pennsylvania, celebrated it. Easter Eggs are actually from worship to the "pagan" Germanic goddess Eostre, so this makes Jack's family historically strange to me. 
> 
> *The only definitive date that RoTG or GoC gives us (in real time) is Easter 2012*** (the movie release and Easter of that year, April 8)  
> ** Jack's family is of English descent. Where Burgess is in Pennsylvania is in the southeast counties, an area where the English settled heavily. As I could find no history on the punishment practices of Quakers, I recalled that in Puritan society, people were exiled from villages, though they could intermingle with the people therein. As noted before, Jack's family does celebrate Easter with egg hunts, so it is possible that they live by the lake (far from Burgess Village) due to a punishment.  
> ***In the art book, it says that Jack came out of the lake in the early 1600's. 300 years later makes it the early 1900's, but Jamie's mother is wearing jeans, which started becoming a thing in the 1950's.
> 
> The Elk King - Story I'm writing for this Universe. I'll have Jack read it at some point, as he's the one that made it up :)
> 
> Gemma - "Jewel"
> 
> Peter Pan - Written by J.M. Barrie, who based the character Peter on his older brother, who died in an ice-skating accident before he was 14 and always remained a boy in their mother's eyes


	4. Man in the Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack ponders love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Begins during the movie and jumps to months afterwards. Much information is given here that lays down structure for this world.

_Sometimes I can hear my bones straining under the weight of all the lives I’m not living._

_- Jonathan Safran Foer_

* * *

Jack opened his eyes and saw a darkly-clad figure in front of him. Not like Pitch; he didn’t give off the malicious, lonely air that the Nightmare King gave off. Pale blue eyes gazed into his, the emotions of love and caring swimming in them. His hair was a fine silver, a bit darker than Jack’s and glistening like polished metal.

“Hello, Jack.”

A flash of heat spread through Jack’s heart and he wanted to embrace this person. The man came closer to him and did just that, the black-clothed arms holding him close. A hand came up and stroked his head, the warmth soothing to his body through his sweater.

The frost spirit stayed silent, settling into a sense of relaxation. Bringing up his own arms, he carefully wrapped them around this figure. This person was familiar to him, but who he was, Jack couldn’t completely recall.

“… You’re…”

“What you remember of me is of no importance,” he said, smiling at Jack. “What is-“

“Look…” He glared at the person in front of him. His voice. The first voice he had heard, and the one it belonged to was here in front of him. “You’re _him_ , aren’t you? The Man in the Moon?”

The spirit continued to smile. “I am one who resides on the Moon… The one you speak of still is there, but you may address me as him.”

He could speak to this person… as though he were the Man in the Moon? So be it.

“Why didn’t you talk to me before this? Why did I have to be alone for so long?!” Jack raised a clenched fist, ready to bring it against the other, to hurt him. He let out a cry, a cry because he _couldn’t hurt him, this person that made this strange love appear in his chest-!_

“He...” Jack gazed into pale blue eyes, tints lighter than his own, as the other spirit began to speak. The other spirit had sadness reflect in his eyes, empathy towards the youngest Guardian. “He was weak, after creating you. He wanted to speak with you, but he only had the power to watch over you.” Warm hands came to cup his cheeks and Jack felt a tear land on his cheek as the other male placed a kiss to his forehead. “Your memories are so precious, he tried to keep them with you, but he wasn’t able to.” Another kiss, lower, onto his cheek, was delivered.

The sincerity in the voice was almost unnerving, but Jack took it in stride, not ready to believe it just yet.

“… You… revived me because of what? Some feeling to guard over kids? Why weren’t you watching over her too? Neither of us would have been in danger and I…” Jack couldn’t say it. He died, he knew it. He could think it, but not out loud. It would make it too real…

“He cannot interfere like that, Jack. He… doesn’t have the powers to do so.”

Jack growled, flinching as lips caressed his cheek again. The spirit continued: “The powers he holds are limited to his moonbeams. He used the moonbeams to revive you, but you remember that daylight was approaching when you two were on the ice. He had no influence then.”

Lips touched the other cheek and Jack bit at the inside of his lips, ignoring the feeling of wanting in his chest. “Aside, in regards to the Guardians… North was once a thief, Bunnymund was a philosopher who stayed away from everyone, Toothiana was much more violent, and Sanderson slept much more than now. They changed for the sake of the children they protect, but they grew so distant from them. You have never changed. In the turmoil that he allowed to capture you, your loneliness, you have never changed.”

Jack thought of it, how he lived as a human and how he was now. He really hadn’t changed, still the same trickster that he was. He still liked being with kids, taking care of them, and making them smile.

“… Is that why you gave me life again?” His movements stilled and Jack let a thought, the last thought from his human memories, wash over him. “I… saved Gemma! I…” He began to laugh. He was happy. “I kept her safe! I-

“I kept my sister safe.”

One of the hands that cradled his face came to the back of his head, fingers clenching the hair there to keep his head still. He just kept laughing, because he had kept her safe like he had promised his father he would. He began to correlate her with a girl that he had seen as a spirit. He remembered seeing her, her having a husband, and a son that she lovingly named Jack. He had loved her, and she had loved him. She had believed in him! She always had!

“There you go,” the spirit told him. “There’s the Jack we know, that we believe in.” Warm lips pressed to Jack’s, the winter spirit not moving to respond. The warmth was welcomed, the cold of Jack’s flesh disappearing as he adjusted to the other’s temperature. A longing that Jack felt whenever he saw lovers walking hand-in-hand began to rekindle itself in the recesses of his mind and he wrapped his arms around the spirit, feeling the same longing from him.

It was neither a deep kiss nor a passionate one. It was just a kiss of reassurance, both of them accentuating their presence with the intimate gesture. The simple statement of being there for the other, it was fulfilling and sweet.

Jack felt a sadness and loneliness well up inside of his heart, warm and alien to him. It was not as sharp as the loneliness he had felt in his three hundred years of being a spirit. Then he realised. It was this one, this person was lonely, like him. It was rare to hear of it when he listened to parents tell their children stories to lull them to sleep. It was even rarer now, in the time of technology. Just as rare as the talk of frost spirits…

They were lonely… just like Pitch. A thought swept across his mind, another of the spirit’s emotions, and he saw a large ship travelling through galaxies and the Milky Way, only for a bright light to come and crash it to the Earth. The Moon followed just shortly after, the sphere-like ship stopping and becoming trapped in the greedy pull of the Earth. Soon, this spirit in front of him gazed down at Earth, in awe of how the previous Tsar could care so much for his kingdom, and how he could do the same with the current Tsar and the children of Earth.

Separating was difficult, neither man wanting to do so, but the older spirit kept his forehead pressed to Jack’s, admiring the light blush on the shorter man’s cheeks.

“You should wake up now.” Jack groaned, a bit exasperated.

“This was a dream? Really?”

He chuckled, petting Jack’s head like the child he was. “Yes, you’ll be back with the little faerie when you wake, but know this, Jack: He is always watching over you, even if you never hear his voice. Please know he is there. That we are there.”

* * *

Jack gasped as he awoke, back in the frozen wasteland where he’d last seen Baby Tooth. He panted for air and looked for the faerie. Catching her gaze, which was one of interest, he looked at the Tooth Box in his hand.

“Did… Did you see that?!” She shook her head, but he pounced forward to scoop her up in his hands.

“That was me! I had a family! I had a sister! I saved her!” Her squeaks and chirps were enthusiastic and she looked glad. He chuckled before he let the words sink in to his own mind. He saved her… He took care of her whenever Mother couldn’t and he guarded her from everything that could harm her.

He looked up at the Moon.

“That’s why you chose me.”

The Moon gazed back down at him, silent and glowing.

“I’m… I’m a Guardian.”

An alien spark came inside of his heart, one full of relief, as though it was glad that Jack finally figured it out. It had a touch of jest, surely from the spirit he had met, and Jack chuckled to himself.

* * *

Jack sat on the roof of the Bennett house and looked up at the moon, only eight months after he had regained his memories and Pitch had been taken away by his own Nightmares. The screams that the Bogeyman had let out reminded him too much of his sister after a night of Nightmares, the night he had decided that he would soothe her on the nights that she felt would be particularly hard. He would always invite her to his bed to rest and then, when she decided to sleep on her own, he would stay awake as long as he could, just in case she cried out for him.

Pitch’s screams were haunting him like the glow of the Moon, lighting his soul with something he couldn’t identify. It was warm… and it was precious.

He wanted to comfort Pitch, to allow him some form of solace from the loneliness.

“What?” He looked up at the Moon.

“Why? Why do I feel like… Like I owe Pitch something?”

“Who knows? Would you like to know?” Jack turned and saw a young man. He wore a black uniform, gold and silver embroidery decorating the material of the cape across his shoulders. His long hair was tied back, cascading down to end above his waist. A sword hung at his side. He walked over to the Guardian, balancing without difficulty on the slanted rooftop, and Jack could hear the tinkle of a bell. He then sat down a few feet away from Jack, staring up at the moon. There, on the ribbon that held back his hair, hung two bells.

"Who are you?"

_Do I know you?_

"Call me the Colonel, though it's not my proper title." Jack tilted his head at that.

"What are you, then?" The man looked up at him. His golden eyes sent shivers of intimidation along Jack's spine, and it calmed him to see that his eyes faded to blue.

"I was once a General." When Jack nodded and stayed silent, the General continued. "You feel something for Pitch, as though you owe him something?"

"Yes," Jack said. "I do."

"Have you ever thought that, perhaps, it pretains to your rebirth? You were in the pond, in the dark, and your first emotion was fear itself. Maybe it goes back even further. After all," the General said, before sighing, as though there was a heavy weight in his breath, breathing a chore. "You've had a life before this. Who's there to say you haven't had a life before this and before that... back and back centuries, even millenia?"

The frost spirit let out a sharp exhale, getting down from his perch and settling next to the General. If what was just spoken was true, then he had more memories to find, more parts of himself that he had to accept as part of him and adapt to.

"There were once many of us, spirits that could control ice and the cold." He lifted up a hand and Jack saw frost rise from his palm, forming a large, glass-like snowflake, translucent. The Wind, curious, wrapped around it, spinning it, and when the General offered no objections, the Wind carried it away, playing with it.

"We were the Winter Court,  _Hatu Ajira_ , and we were all designated a world. You see, the Universe began in the entities of Darkness and Cold. This was the beginning of the Beginning. Then, Light and Warmth emerged in one instant, birthed from the first star. The Cold commingled well with the Light and Warmth, but the Darkness soon grew jealous, and it stole away the Warmth, which is why many places in darkness can be so very warm. The Darkness became shadows, the shadows that possessed my  _netr_ , Pitch. The shadows seek out the Cold, as they did in the Beginning.

"However, the Cold did not understand why the Darkness took away the Warmth, even then innocent and shunning all hurtful emotions - a cold shoulder, if you will. The Light offered the Cold comfort and protection, and soon, the Darkness came for the Cold, and it was shocked by the Warmth that the Light still radiated. It burned the Darkness, so the Darkness could never reclaim the Cold and the Cold felt... compassion, for lack of a word to truly describe it.

"The Great Being had created the Universe and its entities, and had begun to create planets and stars and organise them into galaxies and other arrangements. He saw the turmoil of the four great Entities and said that He would seal them in Caskets, beings that would contain two Entities each. One for the Cold and the Dark, the other for Light and Warmth. The Light, Warmth, and even the Cold disappeared, the Darkness left to wander for a time, as penance for having stolen away the Warmth.

"These Caskets were not born to feel Love, sadly. They had to learn it. It was punishment to all for the Darkness' possessive qualities. They are meant to find it in any way that they are allowed.

"Beings were born after. Stars personified the Light and Warmth, though they were not Caskets. Many Beings were born to control the elements. Beings like us that can control the Cold organised themselves into the Winter Court, each designated a world, as I said before. This was for protection and purpose. When that world would die, we would die with it.

"The Casket, however, would not die, even after his world had perished. I protected the world upon which I was born, and soon after one of my comrades had fallen, I came to protect this one as well. The shadows have then searched for me, the last member of the Winter Court... the only possibility of the Casket."

Jack bit his lip. Either this spirit was insane or telling the truth, but it had made sense. Sandy had told him of Caskets, how he himself was once a Star, and the sleepy man had told him wistful stories of a group once known as the Winter Court.

"Ge-Colonel, who is Pitch?" The militant looked away to the Moon, eyes eager to find some way to explain everything.

"You met my younger brother, Candra, the one who lives on the Moon Clipper with the Man in the Moon." The General let his voice go quiet, the silence remaining in the air between the two men for a bit longer. Jack could see his pulse jumping at his neck and wondered what was making him so anxious. "We were born on the same world as Kozmotis Pitchiner, the man that would become Pitch Black, thousands of years ago. He raised me from infancy and later married our sister, Amita Devata. He was the previous General and he taught me well enough that I became his successor."

Jack looked down at the roofing tiles. "After he was taken by shadows?"

"No. He was sent to guard them, hold them back from the Galaxies and their inhabitants, and I was his replacement, training the Golden Armies. The shadows, you've seen I believe, toy with your emotions, with the things you hold most dear. They masqueraded as his daughter, who was my ward at the time. Once they invaded his uncertainties of her safety with me, they possessed him." Jack turned to his companion, wide-eyed. Pitch had been a father and husband, a father to this young General.

"Her mother?"

"She died decades earlier, but the shadows made sure that he would not fight them, pretending to be my sister and seducing him."

_How much can someone suffer?_

He could remember his previous life with his family, how they found him in the woods as a small child, a child with no family nor connections. They had brought him home, raised him. This General loved Pitch like a father, and Jack could relate to it, the warmth of an embrace, praise for a good day's work, and comfort when the sadness or fear became to great that Jackson would fear the Devil may come through his window and devour him.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"You'll learn in time."

Jack lifted his head and looked at the General in a pleading manner.

"Please... Isn't there anything you can tell me?" The General lowered his gaze. Jack could read nothing from his posture. The tension in the air was suffocating, like being... Being underwater again, his lungs straining and burning. His eyes grew a bit watery, tears forming at his memory.

"Never..."

Jack lifted his head. "What?"

"Never apologise."

The General looked up at the moon again. Jack wondered if he was thinking of his brother. "There are things that people feel sorry for, things that cannot be changed, so there is no reason to apologise for them. You felt that with your sister, once you understood your past in this lifetime, didn't you?"

Jack looked up at the moon and he could see his adopted sister Gemma's face.

 _One day_ , he remembered her saying.  _One day, Mama said to me, we'll be-_

Jack felt a wave of nausea sweep through him. "Yes..."

The General stood up. "I ended my world, sent its inhabitants here to start a new life on this young planet. I, the Casket, with my ruler Tsar Lunanoff and my brother to watch over our people, have always been watching over them, no matter what form I take. The shadows came, Pitch at the Nightmare Galleon's helm, and I could not... Could not harm him, not my _netr_. I took his daughter here to be safe and in my absence, she has grown to hate her father. I cannot apologise for these things. They were for the best, because you are here now."

Jack started, gripping his crook. "Why me?"

The General looked down at him and Jack's mouth opened, agape, as he met his own reflection.

"Because you are me." The General bent down, one knee to the roof's shingles, and pressed a kiss to Jack's forehead. Cold, deeper than Jack had in his body, swept through him and images, words flashed through him. The one thought - memory - that stood out above them all was that of a young man with Pitch's face, eyes, and hair, holding the hand of a little boy. Jack knew somewhere in his heart, that the boy was him.

"No matter what form I take, how many lives I have, I am the Casket.  _You_ are the Casket, Jack."

The General was speaking, but all Jack could focus on was the memory, the memory that grew and it became Pitch,  _Kozmotis_ , cradling him during a storm, the Stars arching angry energy over the skies and the rain coming down uncomfortable to Jack because it wasn't ice, no matter how cold it was. It grew still and Jack found himself with hair at the middle of his back and tottering after his caretaker, his  _netr_ , who was dressing for battle, leaving Jack a pat on the head and taking something off Pitch's sword holster, a pair of bells on a ribbon. His hair was tied back and forever, he kept it in that fashion.

"What do I have to to? How can I help Pitch?"

The General, his past self, smiled down at him. "Any way you can. Any way that you are able to relieve him from the shadows. Just remember-"

"Never apologise, right?"

The General nodded. "There are two more of us, their memories inside of me. You, Jackson, and I are only three. You will learn more and hopefully, through the memories you gain, you will find out how to save him."

Jack nodded. 

"I must leave now. I'll be inside of you, one with you. You'll gain my memories slowly, as to keep you from being overwhelmed."

Jack's vision clouded and he saw two beings, two more of him. The first had long black hair and a Japanese style sword. The second, he rode a horse and had a sword at his side, half of his face covered.

The General began to fade away in front of him, becoming like the Moon Beams that Jack had seen shortly after his birth. He appreciated the Light, its warmth.

Then he paused. "You never had a sister."

"That... I've never been able to understand." The other him sighed. "Pitch would not think to understand."

Soon, Jack was alone on the roof of the Bennett home, a black cape across his shoulders.

"... Where do we begin, _netr_?" he asked the air. "How shall we make this end?"

The Moon Beams pressed against his cheeks, almost like kisses. Jack could only wonder if it was Man in the Moon or Candrea, but he knew for certain that he was not lonely any-more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep... Hell shall commence as I try to organise everything. Calculations taken, the timeline goes like this:
> 
> 50,000 yrs ago: Kozmotis is born.  
> 40,000 yrs ago: The General was born. He never ages or loses his baby teeth.  
> 20,000 yrs ago: One of the Winter Court members dies, leaving the General to take on his planet, Earth. Pitch's daughter is born around this time.  
> 12,000 yrs ago: Candra is born. Pitch is possessed.  
> 10,000 yrs ago: Tsar XII and Tsarina Lunanoff die. The General destroys their planet and leaves to take care of Candra, MiM, and Pitch's daughter. Atlantis sinks.  
> 8,000 yrs ago: The General dies and begins his second life.  
> 1,500 yrs ago: The second life ends and the third begins.  
> about 300 years ago: Jackson Overland Frost is born. He dies at the age of 17. He is the only one that loses his baby teeth. Jack Frost is born.
> 
> All of Jack's lives are going to have their own stories... eventually ;-;
> 
> Now we can continue forward.


End file.
